


A Thing or Two

by SunshineAndRainbows



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Baby Keith (Voltron), Canon Compliant, F/M, Gen, humans have magic but don't even know it, introspective, keith has a kind of weirdly magical intuition what if plot twist he got it from his dad, keith's father's PoV, no names bc I don’t wanna guess and be wrong, very minor romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 01:59:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12948861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunshineAndRainbows/pseuds/SunshineAndRainbows
Summary: Earth’s history was peppered with people who claimed to be psychics or oracles. Most of them were fake; none of them were believed.





	A Thing or Two

**Author's Note:**

> So this was inspired by one of Radioactivesupersonic’s theories about Keith’s dad, probably read them first  
> http://radioactivesupersonic.tumblr.com/post/168209948890/honestly-ive-aired-a-lot-of-my-thoughts-about  
> http://radioactivesupersonic.tumblr.com/post/168220655780/ooh-prophet-theory-is-very-good-ive-actually

     He knew a few things, living in the desert. He knew how to track, how to hunt, how to eat when the nearest grocery story was hours and hours away. He knew the land better than his own self: where to find water, or shade. He knew how to handle the upkeep on his shack. He knew how to deal with monsoon season, as well as every other season… _usually_ the other seasons. He knew how to coexist with creatures that could kill him, and how to kill them first if they tried. He knew how to love the rain when it graced him in sheets so thick it felt like the whole world might drown. He knew how to exhale deeply in the dry heat and pretend all the tension tangled in his spine was melting away in the sun.

     He knew a great deal more.

     More than he should. More than he _could_. Far more than he could ever explain.

     Earth’s history was peppered with people who claimed to be psychics or oracles. Most of them were fake; none of them were believed.

     But he knew where the lion was, and what story he needed to tell so that… someone? Would know when… when…

     Well… _when_.

 

* * *

 

     The caves were covered in drawings already. Of course, there were others before him. Perhaps many, perhaps only a few. They told the same story again and again. They had known _something would come_. They had known _the lion would leave_.

     But he was the one who knew _when_.

     Maybe someday, there would be someone who knew _who_.

 

* * *

 

 

     He knew the day she would come, and he knew where to find her. He knew that he couldn’t miss her, not for the world.

     He hadn’t known he would fall in love, hadn’t known she would too. He hadn’t known how absolutely perfect their baby would be, how quickly Keith would have his heart.

     But she couldn’t stay. He knew because she told him, and he believed her.

     He knew he’d never see her again.

 

     (Earth had puzzled her. She had been curious and endlessly fascinated and he’d been more than willing to share everything of his home with her.

     But time and time again she had asked him, “How do your people know this? You’ve never even left your star.”

     Mermaids and elves, humanoids who were not human. Beings that were not humanoid, but were people. Witches and cursed immortals. Some fair half of the sci-fi genre, a surprising amount of fantasy.

     He had always responded, “I don’t know, someone’s imagination.”

     But it was only later, the final time she had asked, that she had looked back to him with some flavor of revelation in her eyes.

     “This is not imagination.” She had said, “This is _prophesy_.”

     That night, she explained to him the battle the universe faced. The next morning she told him she had to leave. However she might love him—love Keith—she had a duty to uphold.

     Three days later, she was gone.)

 

* * *

 

 

     When Keith had been born with the same violet eyes _he_ had received from neither parent, he didn’t understand the sinking feeling in his gut.

     When he caught Keith trying to sneak out into the desert—long after bedtime—again and again, he didn’t understand his kid’s tenacity.

     He finally did when he walked back to their shack, cradling his sleepy three-year-old to his shoulder, only for _his baby_ to murmur in his ear, “Dad, I gotta go.”

     “Why’s that, Keith?”

     “Because.”

     A statement, because ‘ _because’_ was a perfectly good reason when you were little and didn’t have the words to explain the unexplainable. Such had been the case when he had been small. He had exasperated his parents plenty, but at least _they_ hadn’t had to deal with their toddler sneaking out into the coyote/rattlesnake/scorpion/cactus/whatever-the-hell-else infested desert.

     But then, “She wants me t' look. Gotta find—” a yawn, and then Keith drooped against his neck, finally asleep. 

     Oh.

_Oh._

     He knew what was in the direction Keith always ran.

     He barely kept the quaver out of his voice, “not yet, Keith, you still got a few more years.”

     Far, far too few. He knew because he could count them.

     A few hundred years ago, even in the country he called home, in times of war it had been commonplace to send seventeen-year-old kids off to fight. Millennia before that, sixteen-year-olds were considered proper adults.

     But that wasn’t _now_ , and it wasn’t _fair_.

     He’d sooner go himself, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t time yet.

 

* * *

 

 

     He knew a thing or two, living out in the desert. He knew how to survive. He knew he loved his son. He knew he loved a woman from the stars, knew she loved him in return. He knew the stars were a terribly dangerous place to be. He knew the universe wasn’t fair, wasn’t kind. He knew where to find the lion that would one day steal _his baby boy_ away to fight his mother’s war.

     He even knew _when_.

     He wished—with all his heart—that he could know more. He wished he knew comforting facts about the future. He wished he knew how his son’s journey would end, rather than only _when_ it would begin.

     He wished he could know that Keith was going to be okay.

     But he didn’t.

 

     He was only allowed to know _when_.

**Author's Note:**

> annnddd then a few years later something happens that makes the line in Keith's bio be “orphaned at a young age”


End file.
